The Reluctant Playmate
by randorockgal
Summary: Bella just wanted to make some cash for college.
1. Chapter 1

I really need to make more money for college. Oh, ok, let's go back a bit. I won a weird radio contest right after high school where I won a breast augmentation and a rhinoplasty. Don't freak. I have always felt disproportionate. I have a booty and slim waist, but no chest. Actually, they were two different sizes. Yeah, you perfect women can mock. I had an A and a B. Call me when you claim perfection. You never had issues buying a bra. Victoria's Secret doesn't carry a bra with one cup an A and the other is a B. You gotta get creative. Additionally, my nose was slightly too large for my small face. The station merely provided the financing. I was able to seek out my own doctor. I did shop around until I found the right doc for myself. I became a 34 C (on BOTH sides) and he gave me a natural looking nose. I wasn't trying to be Pam Anderson or whoever. Yes, I know some folks become unhinged when they hear 'breast implants.' This was right after I graduated high school. I told my folks I took a vacay with my friend Jess. They don't pay a whole lot of attention to what I do anyway. She covered for me. We were vacationing in Destin with her fam. Uh uh. People get weird when you mention boobs. Nose, eyes, or whatever is okay, but mention boobs, peeps become unhinged. It bears repeating.

I have a partial scholarship for Georgia Tech and I will major in computer science. I'd love to be a white hat hacker one day. Kevin Mitnick is my hero. His book "Ghost In The Wires" is amazing! In the meantime, I went through sorority rush and joined the top group there, Alpha Omega Delta.

While bored one day, I went window shopping at Lenox Square Mall. It was January and I wore some skinny dark jeans and a dark blue tee with long sleeves. A woman said she took note of me. Er, what?

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to freak you out," said a very attractive forty-something blond woman. "My name is Kate."

Er, okay.

"You're beautiful and I bet you'd photograph amazing."

My BS detector is going off. I'm only 5'4" and not model height. I'm also not noodle thin.

She senses my reticence.

"Oh, don't worry. I work for Playboy. Part of my job is to keep an eye out for Playmate potential."

"I can't pose nude. That's not me. Heck, I'm a virgin."

"Are you in college?"

"Yes, and I have a partial scholarship, but I can't be a part of 'The Girls of Whatever'." I also have an on campus job. Did "Girls Gone Wild" get rebooted?

"If you make Playmate, you'll get $25,000 and be up for Playmate of the Year."

"You can't guarantee I'd even be a Playmate. You could use my test shots in random places. I can't use my real name. Okay, I could use a middle name and my mother's maiden name or a grandma's maiden name. I can't be in a Playmate video or do publicity." I can't be a Playmate.

Only me, my plastic surgeon and female gyn have seen my boobs. Not my comfort space. I figured this would shut them down.

Kate was more insistent.

"I'm also a photographer. Let's do some swimsuit and lingerie shots here in Atlanta. If nothing comes if it, then that's it. Bring a friend if it makes you feel better."

* * *

I had a weird dream and it was sort of this. Let's see where we go! I wasn't planning on writing more fic, but it's a great way to cut your teeth in writing. Maybe she takes Angela with her. This is a fly by the seat of my pants fic. I'm no Hefner fan, but timely since he passed.

I've posted and removed this twice. I'm not sure how I feel about it. When I first posted, got some really mean reviews. It wasn't because the story was bad, but because Bella had her breasts done. The second time, the reviewers were more kind. Erg. Imagine a brown eyed Megan Fox as Bella. I want this to be a humorous fic. I'll leave this up instead of being my fickle self. It will be about her trying to be incognito. This Bella is a nice girl. I've seen hooker Bellas get kinder treatment.


	2. Chapter 2

Holy cats. I actually contacted Kate. She's an Atlanta-based photographer who scouts for Playboy on the side. She does photography for them as well as local magazines, ads, events, and the Elite Modeling Agency branch here. She's so talented that if potential or confirmed Playmates only want a woman photographer, they'll fly her to Los Angeles. She's a wizard with the camera. It's some weird rule that the pictorials have to be done in LA. Hef has to meet the potential centerfold. Yes, A-list models do nudes, but it's only if it is in black and white and taken via the 'right' photographer.

I did drag my friend Angela with me. Let me go back a bit. I went over it and over it for several days. I finally broke down and asked my friend and roommate Angela (we live in an off-campus apartment that her folks pay for-it is adjacent to campus) about it all. She was surprisingly intrigued.

"No way! Girl! Seriously?" Her earnest hazel eyes are as big as dinner plates. "That's so glam!"

"It's not glam, it's weird. Maybe I should send you." Angela snorts. Yes, Ang is a babe and if she had been with me, probably the one scouted. That gives me an idea.

"I'll take you with me. You're way hotter. They'll change their minds."

"Er, but go with me to get blue contacts. Just to be safe." She's confused. "They could use these test shots in the mag. I have to be as non-me as possible. They already know I'm a brunette so I can't do anything about it."

We head to Pearle Vision and I use the excuse of being in a minor role of a movie. Okay, they didn't need an excuse, but my guilt compels me. Atlanta is Hollywood south so it's no surprise. Most of _The Hunger Games_ series was filmed here as is almost everything else. The Porsche building became _The Avengers_ headquarters in one of the zillion _Avengers_ movies. I also made sure I got my brows, underarms and bikini area waxed. I normally do that anyway. No, not Brazilian, but when I go to the beach or pool, I don't want unsightly hairs.

I'm used to wearing contacts for vision (usually clear), but popped in the blue ones before Ang and I head to Kate's studio. I'm also armed with a few bikinis.

I'm too nervous to drive so Ang does. It's a studio off West Paces. Posh. I guess I expected some seedy dive. We pull up to a perfectly respectable place. A converted old house with a sign that says "Kate Denali Photography."

"Hi, I'm here for a session with Kate," I shyly tell the receptionist. Her name plate says, Irina. She snootily looks down at Ang and myself, despite that we're standing and she's sitting, and says in a nasal tone, "One moment." To her shock, she utters, "She'll be with you shortly." It was just a flicker, but I saw the shock. Snob.

"I'm so happy you came! Was so afraid you'd flake. You seemed a skittish gal." She smiles warmly. "Introduce your beautiful friend to me."

"This is Angela, my roommate and BFF. She's here for moral support." In a lower voice, I utter, "She's the only one who knows I'm even contemplating this." I let out a quiet nervous laugh.

"Okay, ladies. Let's get down to it." I appreciate her no-nonsense style.

A makeup artist, hair stylist, and wardrobe queen (as minimal as it is) do their thing. Did Kate sense I'd want only women on this experiment? I'm thankful as I channel my inner vixen. Holy cannoli. Where did this come from? I exercise tons and I know I have a great bod, but it never occurred to me to make money off of it. I love Pilates, do weights and love to run. I have great muscle tone. Some people are naturally toned. Not me. I earned it. Hate me for going the surgical route for chest and nose, but I earned everything else through hard work.

"Bella, we have to do at least a couple of topless shots."

I hedge.

"It's a requirement." I give Angela a look and she nods. Yeah, easy for her. She's not having her picture taken.

Kate shows me the digital proofs. She's a magician.

"No one can know this is me. I could lose my scholarship or my sorority membership. It has to be under a fake name. I'll need to dye my hair." Okay, I don't know if I'd lose those things, but don't want to risk it.

"Chill, sweet girl. We'll work it out," Kate says. "I love your long brown hair. It's so thick! We need more brunettes. You may not even be selected. It's stiff competition."

"Seriously, I need to wear a wig if you choose me. There's a zillion of other women who will I be happy to be a Playmate. Not sure why you took note of me. I have to be totally undercover. I'm not your person."

"No, girl, I love your hair."

"If I get chosen, I can't use my real name."

The photos are sent under the name of Marie Dwyer, a blue-eyed brunette. I hope they won't pick me. There's a zillion other more attractive women who want this. I told Kate that if somehow I get picked, I only want her to do my pictorial. I claim my hometown as Knoxville, TN even though I'm from Atlanta. Unfortunately, I have to sign a release that they can use these photos in other areas of the mag or random offshoot issues.

Sweet Kate did give me the proofs. If I never get picked, I can look back when I'm in my 80s and know I was once a hottie. She confessed she was once a Playmate via an alias. No surprise. She used her connections and Playmate money to get a degree in photography. She's still hot.

xxxxxx

I try my best to put the photo shoot out of my mind. I may never hear anything. I hope I don't, but some small thing in the back of my head hopes I do. Ergh! Ang always asks, but nada. It's been three weeks.

While in class, an unfamiliar number calls my cell, but a voicemail has been left. My phone is always on silent in class. It's my last class of the day and, bored, start to listen.

"This is Maggie O'Brien with Playboy and can you please give me a call back at 310-123-5555."

* * *

Her mom was Renee Dwyer-so a play on that. Bella's middle name is Marie.

I think I accidentally published chap 2 before it was ready. My apologies. This is the real one.

To those who review as 'guest,' I can't reply to your reviews unless you are a registered member. I appreciate constructive criticism. One 'guest' did have a good idea. Unfortunately, I didn't think of it. ;)

This is a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants fic. So when should she meet Edward? Is he a movie star she meets at the mansion or a fellow classmate who she tries to hide it all from?

Is Kate another Georgia native like Donna D'Errico? She's my Kate inspiration.

Google Megan Fox and swimsuits or lingerie. Her and Kelly Monaco are my visual inspirations.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hi, Maggie. This is, uh, Marie Dwyer." I'm speaking in a hushed voice. Not sure why. No one is around me.

"Ah! Kate's find! So nice to hear back from you. You photograph exceptionally well. You're absolutely lovely." She has a charming Irish accent.

""I think she must have sent in the wrong photographs." I chuckle.

"Oh no, lass. Katie adored you and we want her to snap your pictorial." I'm stunned. I don't know how to react. My jaw drops a million miles.

"Yes, lovely lass, I just heard your jaw drop. You're not the first one. You're hot and you don't know it. We need some brainy brunette Playmates. Hef will love you. When can you fly out?"

I have two weeks off from school with Christmas break so I tell her those dates, but I tell her that my friend Angela needs to come with me. She'd normally book me first class, but books the both of us coach seats and we can crash in the same room at the 'Playmate house' which is a separate building from the mansion. Girls who are testing stay there. I'm really hoping they see how hot Angela is and change their minds.

We arrive and are settled in and we do a Hollywood night out with Hef, his girlfriends and random hanger-ons. E! wants to interview Ang and myself, but we coyly look down and she expertly says, "We're just hanging with Hef." She's so much better at this than I could ever imagine.

"We dance and since Ang and I are both 21, we have some appletinis, and enjoy ourselves. I've got a pretty low tolerance so she cuts me off. I stick to Diet Coke the rest of the night. When people ask, Ang says it's a Jack and Coke.

The next afternoon, we are taken to a nearby photo studio for the shoot and I see Kate and run into her arms. The familiar warms my heart.

"I didn't want you to have some tart photoshoot. I know you're a brainy gal, not that other 'mates aren't smart, but I know how much it means to you. You will be the hot computer programmer. Is that okay? I once aspired to be an accountant."

I numbly nod.

"Okie, dokie. We'll put you in a tie, glasses, and a short plaid skirt and go with it."

I had to drop my shirt for the test pictures. Doing it again isn't any easier. Kate even admitted that these are more relatively chaste than the other pictorials she's shot. I was okay with glimpses of my butt, but not my genitals. She understood that. At least that was off limits. I know I signed up for this freak show, but when it happens to you, you get freaked. Kate had been there and understood. She protected me.

I saw the proofs and I have to admit that I look pretty hot. Kate is a genius photographer. Wow! I was told that after Hef saw the photos, I was to be Miss July. Floored. No pube shots. My new BFF Kate didn't submit any of those sort of photos. Sorry, to be out there. That's de rigueur for PB. At least this will hit the stands during the summer in between my junior and senior years of college. My hope is that by the time I head back for my last year in college, it will be forgotten. If I'm lucky, a celeb will be on the cover and not me. However, a party will be held at the Mansion for a holiday party. I will attend and I'll be touted as a new PM for July as will other soon-to-be Playmates.

The party happens and Access Hollywood, Entertainment Tonight and E! are all in attendance. I make the choice to wear a masquerade mask. Hef is put off. I play coy.

"I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise." He sees me play-act and seems mollified. There are plenty of others who will mug for the camera. Angela mugs too, but she just graduated from Georgia Tech with a biology degree and is headed to med school at Emory the next fall. Her sorority membership (we're sisters) won't be an issue since she's a new alum. So glad she'll still be in the metro area. Don't get the wrong idea. I think KD brags about a Playmate sister.

I'm sipping on a Diet Coke and a velvety voice comes behind my shoulder.

"Come here often?"

I roll my eyes and look back at a huge movie star, Edward Cullen.

Rather than be star-struck (I'm sure he's used to that), I caustically respond, "Does that work on all the loser chicks?"

His green eyes light up in laughter and I walk off. I have a zero tolerance for pampered d-bag Hollywood stars. He probably thought that meant, "Try harder." Nope. There's something about him, but it's prob just the star factor... or is it?

I find out that later that PB won't have nude Playmates in the mag. The tall, 'legit' modeling agencies will farm out are their models to Playmates. So I guess I'm a last of a dying breed. Ha ha. Bye bye short curvy gals.

* * *

Appletinis are a call out to "The Legend of Green Eyes" fic. I know they're not really a thing now. In that fic, they served the purpose of reminding her of green eyes. Check my profile for the inspiration for her photoshoot. Megan Fox in "Jennifer's Body" minus the horror.

Edward will be a nice guy. He just met her in an unorthodox setting. Having issues with this file.

Will Angela be selected to do a pictorial? She needs some money for med school in addition to her scholarship.


	4. Chapter 4

Ah. That party was fun. I'm not hungover since I know my limits. Poor Ang, however, is a different case. She deserves to let loose since in less than a year she'll be in med school. I'm a mere aspiring white hat hacker. She wants to go into surgery. She has small hands and grew up sewing. It's ideal for her. She's thinking plastic and reconstructive surgery as possible specialities due to her skills. She's so talented in so many different ways. I love her. She just started dating Ben, a Pi Kapp and business major. He better deserve her. However, I do know him and he's a really nice guy.

I throw my hair up in a high pony, skipping makeup, and I pack up my bags. I'm not a diva and want to be as laid back and comfy as possible for the flight. I'm sure that Playboy Enterprises is used to pains-in-the-butts. I don't want to be that gal. Maybe that was the thing that endeared me to Hef and made me a Playmate. I'm not the first virgin to be a Playmate even though I never disclosed my (non) sexual history. I think there was some woman in the 1970s who posed and was a virgin. Ahem. We are right on time while we stand in the foyer of the Playmate house as our car to the airport rolls up.

I'm a bit floored by my interaction with Cullen. I assumed that any actor at the Mansion must be a d-bag. Aren't they all trolling? A former Playmate named Tanya Delova informed me that it's not the case. After I brushed him off, she approached me.

"Being invited is a huge networking opportunity and it's really hard to get invited to the big parties," she says, after tapping me lightly on the shoulder. "He's never hit on any of the guests or Playmates and he usually keeps to himself or hangs with his friends." She blushes. "You'll have to forgive me. I saw that look on your face and knew exactly what you were thinking. I've had that same look." She begins to chuckle and rolls her bright blue eyes. "I've become a pro at deflecting the weirdos." I like this woman. "I also felt kinship since Kate did my pictorial, too. I've seen the proofs. You look stunning! Sorry, word spreads fast. We're no better than little old ladies at the hair salon." Her grin is infectious.

She had networked with Edward and got some supporting roles in a couple of his films which led to rumors. She lets out a huff of exasperation at those. She's engaged to Mike Newton, a screenwriter. They met at an industry party and hit it off, but they are quiet about their private lives. We trade numbers. She says she feels a bit of a mother hen to me. She notices my puzzled look.

"I've seen 'Hellwood' spit young lovelies out to get sucked in and spit out again. I'd hate to see that happen to you. Don't ever go to a meeting with Weinstein by yourself and there are others. Always take a friend. If anything, call me and I'll say I'm your agent and you can't go anywhere without me. I live in the greater LA area, just up in Calabasas. I'll be there for you. Just because you were in PB doesn't mean you're easy and up for grabs. Literally." She then squeezes my right hand reassuringly. I love her subtle Russian accent.

I vow to her that I will, but I have no H-wood aspirations. I want to live in a land of computer code, but I see a gleam in her eye. We will be friends for years to come. No, I wasn't responsible for the hacks that came out a couple of years ago. Wouldn't that be hilarious. Hacks aren't responsible for the Harvey Jabba the Hutt crap. I'll gladly out d-bags. I know how to do that anonymously. But all that crud is being outed via actresses finally being happy to speak.

As Angela and I have our luggage loaded into the trunk of a black Town car, a silver Ferrari pulls up and out of the front driver's side door pops out Edward Cullen. He sees the puzzled and then stricken look on my face.

"Whoa! No! I'm not some weird stalker. I, erm, just wanted to apologize if you got the wrong idea about me." He runs his hands through his wild auburn hair.

I'm still speechless. I'm sure I look like a carp.

"Yeah. This isn't coming out right. I'm not a cheesy douche, but can I have your number? Erg, that sounds bad, too."

I see the driver of the hired car give me a 'wrap-it-up' look and Angela calls out, "We've got to get a plane, Bells."

Edward looks confused. "Bells?"

"I'm using a fake name for the magazine. It's cool," I blurt.

"We're gonna be late!"

"Ugh, here's my number and I'm Bella Swan, by the way." After scribbling my info on a scrap of paper from my purse, probably an ancient gas station receipt, I hand it over and I quickly duck into the car and we're off to LAX. What did I just do? I just gave my number to a movie star unsolicited. Ugh. It must have been from being in a hurry and urge to get out of there. Eek! I also gave him my real name. I put my head into my hands and groan.

"What's wrong?"

"Didn't you see what I just did? I gave him my name and number." Moan.

"Awesome!"

"No, it's not awesome. He only came to apologize for a misunderstanding and I idiotically give him my _real_ name and number."

"Trust me, girl. He was interested." Seeing my confusion she adds, "Do you think movie stars regularly show up the morning after a party here to apologize to women they may have offended. He was into you, sweetie."

Groan.

* * *

I'd love a beta. Please message me if interested. The silver is a call out to the silver Volvo in the books. Not sure when we meet Alice, Rosalie, and the rest of the crew. I plan on including them.


End file.
